Days of the Old Republic IV: Kryvokk
by Psychopithicus
Summary: In an effort to prepare for the upcoming Great Hunt, a young bounty hunter named Kryvokk heads to Nar Shaddaa, looking for the ideal place to start his career. His first client, however, will lead him on a chase that will define the limits of Kryvokk's moral boundaries.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, after a bit of a hiatus, here we are again. The fourth of the eight "player" characters will now have his own story. This time, we follow the somewhat-psychotic bounty hunter, Kryvokk. Hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own most of the characters in this story. Any other names of planets or characters are owned by Lucasarts and Bioware.**

**Days of the Old Republic IV: Kryvokk**

Chapter 1:

If one could name a seedy place, the first that came to mind would be the moon of Nar Shaddaa. After all, this planetoid was not named the "Smuggler's Moon" for no reason. This was where the criminals and other scum of the galaxy made their home, everything from smugglers to pirates to bounty hunters. Here was where many illegal operations were carried out, where the law of the Republic could never reach. Here was where even the most inexperienced bounty hunters could find all sorts of contracts.

Kryvokk Ondeth, a human with hunting aspirations, entered a cantina, long brown hair in his face. The current patrons paid him no mind, seeing as people with reputations—and, in his case, without them—came in every day. The door remained open for a moment as Kryvokk stepped inside, blaster pistol on one hip and eyes glancing about to assess threats. He approached the bar and sat, reflecting as he waited for the bartender.

Reflecting on the day his parents were killed by a Jedi, simply because they refused to give their Force-sensitive child over to the Jedi Order.

"You want something?" the bartender grunted as he came to Kryvokk.

The young hunter looked up at the bartender.

"A couple things," Kryvokk said. "I want info on where you can find good gear for bounty hunters, and I want to know where you can find bounties."

"You?" snorted the bartender. "You wanna be a bounty hunter? Let me tell you something, a kid like you'll be eaten alive before you can say—"

A blast rang out and the bartender screamed, clutching his shoulder. Kryvokk held the smoking blaster in his hand, smirking.

"What was that?" Kryvokk asked. "Couldn't hear you."

He pointed the blaster directly between the bartender's eyes, and prepared to fire.

"That's enough," an accented voice demanded. Kryvokk rolled his eyes, keeping his blaster trained on the bartender's brain, until a red-haired woman with her hair tied in a ponytail placed her hand on his arm, gripping it tightly. "I said, 'that's enough'."

Kryvokk briefly glanced at the woman before turning back to the bartender.

"Anyway, where was I?" he said.

"That man does not have to die," the woman said.

"And why not?" Kryvokk asked.

"Because I can give you what you want to know," the woman answered.

Kryvokk finally relented, placing his blaster back in his holster and turning to the woman. Now that he saw her more closely, she appeared to be wearing the uniform of an Imperial agent. Although most knew the Imperials to be the dominant force in the galaxy, Kryvokk simply scoffed.

"That so?" he said. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Shall we sit?" the woman asked. "I will explain once we do."

Kryvokk shrugged and sat down at a table, the woman doing the same.

"Now, let me explain things to you," the woman said. "My name is Trila Karath."

"And?" Kryvokk said casually, leaning back in his chair.

"No comment on my heritage?" Trila asked, clearly confused. "My ancestor was Saul Karath, the man whose ship bombed planets such as Telos and Taris three hundred years ago."

"Well, this isn't three hundred years ago, is it?" Kryvokk commented. "What makes you think you can tell me what I want to know?"

"Because I know about you, Kryvokk Ondeth," Trila said, causing Kryvokk to sit up in his seat in surprise. "I know about your exploits on Metarrid Leykott's space station, and how you are one of the few surviving bounty hunters. The question is, were you spared because of skill…or cowardice?"

Kryvokk ignored her attempt at an insult, instead leaning closer.

"How do you know all this crap?" Kryvokk asked.

"Members of Imperial Intelligence make their living by fishing up the galaxy's secrets," Trila replied. "Now, back to the matter at hand. I can supply you with the weapons you need to support your friend Braden in the upcoming Great Hunt, but first, I need to know if you are worthy of them."

"Of course," Kryvokk sighed. "There's always a catch."

"So it would seem," Trila nodded. "But for a bounty hunter such as yourself, this will be a simple task. You must hunt down this man."

She held out a hologram, which generated an image of what appeared to be a humanoid with a shark's head.

"His name is Rusain Shum," Trila said. "He's a Karkarodon slave trader operating here on Nar Shaddaa. Your task is to hunt him down."

"This is a job, huh?" Kryvokk smirked. "Am I getting paid or what?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Trila said, waving his concerns aside. "In addition to the information I will provide upon completion of the hunt, you will be compensated for your work."

"Sounds good to me," Kryvokk said. "Where can I find him?"

"His location itself is a mystery, even to me," Trila said. "I can, however, lead you to his chief mercenary."

The hologram changed, this time showing a Zabrak even burlier than Rusain.

"His name is Mennor Tanik," Trila explained. "He usually operates in the lower sections of Nar Shaddaa. Find him, and you find Rusain."

"Guess I'm going diving, then," Kryvokk smirked. He got up, but so did Trila. "What do you want now?"

"I need to accompany you," Trila said, "to see first-hand how you operate."

"Your funeral," Kryvokk shrugged. He left the cantina, Trila following.

"So, how do you plan to enter the lower cities of Nar Shaddaa?" Trila asked.

"Place has speeders, right?" Kryvokk said simply.

Trila stopped for a moment, Kryvokk continuing without her. She put a hand to her chin, contemplating events thus far.

This hunter was going to be interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, SWTOR is going to be free-to-play soon. That means you may just see Kryvokk, Shalanna, Blacknova and the rest of the DOTOR crew online. I know I'm excited. **

**DISCLAIMER: I own most of the characters in this story. Any other names of characters or planets belong to Lucasarts and Bioware.**

Chapter 2:

A large speeder, with a droid pilot, stood ready outside the cantina. Kryvokk and Trila boarded the speeder, which took off soon after.

"We will reach our destination in approximately twenty-one-point-five minutes," the droid pilot said.

"Great," Kryvokk snorted. "Tanik's gonna be long gone by then."

"Don't worry, he'll be there a while," Trila assured him. "I planted some rumors that a bounty was in the area. His M.O will prevent him from leaving until he has acquired his target, which he won't find for another two hours."

"That so?" Kryvokk said. "How do you Imperial types do this stuff, anyway?"

"We have quite a bit of influence, Kryvokk," Trila said, "even in places like this. So, while we're waiting, why don't we get to know each other?"

"You serious, lady?" Kryvokk scoffed. "I don't need to know my client, I just need to work for them."

"Perhaps," Trila said, "but _I_ want to get to know _you_. How did you become a bounty hunter?"

"Doesn't Imperial Intelligence already know things like that?" Kryvokk countered.

"We don't know every last detail of a person's history," Trila replied. "That's where good old-fashioned conversation comes in. Now, tell me, what exactly motivated your decision to become a bounty hunter?"

"Kind of a long story," Kryvokk said. "See…my parents were dirt poor, stuck in the slums of Coruscant. They always told me I was their 'shining light', that I was what kept 'em going. Then, one day, when I was five, a Jedi came."

"I assume this was Jedi Master Ovan Zeeloss?" Trila asked. "You seemed to make that quite clear to his Padawan during your encounter with her on Metarrid's space station."

"I think that was his name," Kryvokk said. "Like I said, I was five. All I remembered was what he looked like."

"Fair enough," Trila nodded. "Please, continue."

"So…when Zeeloss showed up," Kryvokk began, "he told my parents that I was good with the Force or somethin' like that. He told my parents that I could be a Jedi. It sounded real good at first, but then he told them that they'd never be able to see me again. That's when the fighting started. Everyone was shouting, and I just ran to my bedroom. The Jedi left after a little while."

"Then, when did he return to kill your parents?" Trila asked.

"The next day," Kryvokk answered. "I was out getting groceries with a bodyguard droid my parents had spent their last credits on. When we got back, I found my parents…"

He stopped for a moment, as if recalling a painful memory.

"I found my parents dead on the floor," Kryvokk continued. "There were these big burning holes in their bodies…like a lightsaber had been shoved through them."

"That's absolutely horrible," Trila said, placing a compassionate hand on his shoulder. "You have my deepest condolences, Kryvokk."

"Whatever," he said, removing her hand from his shoulder.

"What happened next?" Trila asked, seemingly unfazed by Kryvokk's indifference to her concern.

"The Jedi came back," Kryvokk said. "He told me that, since I didn't have anything keeping me home anymore, that I should just go with him to be a Jedi. That was when I figured it out. _He_ was the one who killed my parents. So, I sent the bodyguard droid after him and ran off. Wanted to kill him ever since."

"And what of all the other Jedi?" Trila asked.

"They're just practice for when I get to Zeeloss," Kryvokk smirked. "I make what your Imperial buddies might call an 'example' out of them. Plus it's fun to watch them squirm when they die."

"I see," Trila said, and although her tone was completely professional, she appeared somewhat unnerved by his sadistic tendencies. The rest of the trip was made in silence, and eventually, the speeder stopped.

"We have arrived at our destination," the pilot droid said.

Kryvokk wordlessly flipped several credits at the pilot and left, Trila following.

"Mennor Tanik should be close," Trila said.

A blaster bolt suddenly blazed by her head, scorching a section of her ponytail.

"Found him," Kryvokk announced.

An armored Zabrak with tan skin and pitch-black tattoos came into view, snarling angrily. He held a single blaster pistol in his hand, the tip of which was smoking. Kryvokk prepared his own blaster, while Trila removed a rifle from her back.

"You're Mennor Tanik?" Kryvokk asked. "I'm lookin' for your boss, Rusain Shum. Mind tellin' me where he is?"

"Screw you!" Tanik roared. "I'm gonna tear you apart!"

"You can try," Kryvokk said.

Tanik bellowed wildly as he fired at Kryvokk, but the young bounty hunter rolled on the ground and shot Tanik in the leg. Trila followed up with a precise shot to the chest, instantly killing the Zabrak. Kryvokk got up and looked at her inquisitively.

"Thought you said we needed him alive?" he said. "I'd have killed him straight away if you just said so."

"Killing bounty hunters isn't the objective," Trila said, kneeling down next to Tanik's corpse and lifting up one arm. "Besides, Tanik was a victim. I was only putting him out of his misery."

"What do you mean?" Kryvokk asked.

"Rusain Shum pumps his bounty hunters chock full of stimulants," Trila explained. "That was why Tanik was acting so aggressively. Killing him was the most merciful option."

"You sure he wasn't just ticked 'cause he couldn't find his bounty?" Kryvokk smirked.

"Not even you get that angry when a Mirialan kicks you in the family jewels," Trila countered.

Kryvokk's smirk disappeared in an instant at that image. He remembered how, on Metarrid's space station, a Mirialan smuggler had struck a literally low blow against him to save the life of his mortal enemy's apprentice. That Mirialan would not live if Kryvokk ever met him again.

"Ah, here we are," Trila said, fiddling with a device on Tanik's arm. "I now have the coordinates of Rusain Shum's hideout. It's close by, in a cantina he owns."

"So, we're movin' out?" Kryvokk asked.

"We are indeed," Trila said, pointing down the street. "The cantina is in that direction."

Kryvokk was about to go that way, when Trila stopped him.

"Remember," she said, "Rusain is most likely to have slaves in there."

"I know what to do with slaves," Kryvokk snapped, pushing himself past Trila.

Kryvokk headed off towards Rusain Shum's hideout, Trila following with a worried expression on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Finally-FINALLY-I have been able to write up the final chapter to Kryvokk's entry in the DOTOR series. This one's a bit darker, but hopefully you'll enjoy nonetheless.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own most of the characters in this story. Any other names of characters or planets are owned by Lucasarts and Bioware.**

Chapter 3:

Rusain's cantina, sporting the name "THE AQUA CLUB", was rather easy to find. Once there, however, Kryvokk paid no attention to the large holographic banner over the entrance, instead simply shooting the two bouncers outside the door. The young hunter then strolled through the door as if he owned it, Trila following with a significantly greater degree of caution. Kryvokk fired his blaster into the air, quickly attracting the attention of every patron.

"Which one of you scumbags is Rusain Shum?" Kryvokk called.

"Ha!" a Mon Calamari patron laughed. "What's it matter to a little runt like—"

The Mon Calamari was unable to finish his sentence due to Kryvokk casually shooting him between the eyes. Trila's eyes widened, but she quickly regained her composure once Kryvokk pointed his gun into the crowd.

"Do I seriously need to repeat myself?" he sighed. "Where. Is. Rusain. Shum?"

Now fairly intimidated, most of the patrons pointed to the back. Kryvokk shrugged and pressed on, Trila following suit with an observant eye. The young hunter approached a door, but it failed to open.

"This door has a keypad locking mechanism," Trila noticed, cracking her knuckles. "If you'll give me a few minutes, I can open this door with—"

She was cut off when Kryvokk simply took out his blaster and shot the keypad, the resulting electrical feedback causing the door to open.

"Or I could do that and save us a ton of time," Kryvokk said. "You comin' or what?"

He entered into Rusain's private quarters, where the Karkarodon was busy enjoying a holo of a dancing Twi'lek woman. Shum saw movement out the corner of his eye, and upon turning his head, his dark eyes widened.

"Oi!" Shum barked in a surprisingly clear accent. "What do you think you're doin', mate?! You can't just barge in here and say 'g'day'! Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, you're seafood," Kryvokk grunted, promptly shooting Shum in the head and allowing his corpse to fall to the floor.

"You killed him," Trila remarked, her voice sounding as if she was restraining her horror.

"And?" Kryvokk asked.

"I never specified that I wanted him dead," Trila answered. "You could have just taken him to the proper authorities."

"This is Nar Shaddaa you're talking about, lady," Kryvokk said as he rummaged through Shum's clothes. "You said this pile of crap had slaves?"

"Yes, but…wait, what do you intend to do with them?" Trila asked.

"Won't matter if I don't find 'em first," Kryvokk said. He attempted to leave, but his client gripped his arm.

"Slaves are a delicate matter," Trila said sternly. "I will gladly help you, but I need to know what you want with the slaves before I do so."

Kryvokk sighed.

"Fine," he said. "I'm gonna set them free."

"Really?" Trila said with a raised eyebrow. "Why is that? If you sold the slaves, you could easily make more money."

"Just because I'm a bounty hunter doesn't mean I don't have standards," Kryvokk shrugged.

"Very well," Trila nodded. She pulled a circular device out of her pocket, and upon touching it with a finger, a holographic map of Shum's cantina appeared. "The slaves will be further in this facility. We should hurry. Thanks to your handiwork, it will not be long before someone notices Rusain's demise."

Soon, Kryvokk and Trila came across a row of cylindrical force-field cages. Most were surprisingly empty, save one that contained a young Chiss with untidy black hair. The Chiss looked up at them suspiciously, revealing numerous scars and burns that were etched all over his face.

"What?" he blinked. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"My name is Trila," the Imperial agent said calmly. "Kryvokk here works for me. We have come to free you and any other slaves Rusain Shum has kept."

"Like I'll believe that?" the Chiss snorted. "No one in this galaxy would bother to help some slave."

Kryvokk walked over to the cage and pressed a button, causing the barrier to fade away, much to the Chiss' surprise.

"Wait, what?" the Chiss gasped. "You're…actually setting me free?"

"Sure, why not?" Kryvokk shrugged. "Hey, kid, you got a name?"

"I used to," the Chiss snorted bitterly as he stood up, revealing a silver slave collar around his neck. "I used to be called Vam'erzada'kiraxo—Merzedak to my friends—but my so-called father sold me into slavery. Now I'm just a number that Rusain thinks he can torture to his twisted heart's content."

"That's awful," Trila remarked. "Why would your father do such a thing?"

"None of your business, Imp!" Merzedak snapped, making as if to strike her. Kryvokk, however, quickly pointed his blaster to Merzedak's temple.

"You want to live?" he asked. "Then get out of here and leave my client alone."

"…fine," Merzedak relented. "I guess I can respect that."

Kryvokk hit another button on the cage, and Merzedak's slave collar disconnected and fell off of his neck.

"Well…thanks for giving me a chance," the Chiss said, cautiously treading out of his cage. "Now I can finally get an identity again...and I'll make my father's precious Empire pay for what he did to me! And I'll flatten anyone who gets in my way!"

Merzedak charged out, leaving Trila and Kryvokk alone.

"Well…I must say, Kryvokk," Trila remarked, "I am impressed. You finished the job I gave you in record time, and you also went the extra distance to free the target's slaves."

"Just give me the money," Kryvokk ordered.

"Hold on a moment," Trila said, putting her hand on Kryvokk's shoulder. The bounty hunter glanced at it awkwardly, as if he expected it to suddenly strangle him. "Kryvokk Ondeth…your skills are undeniably exceptional, and your tactics—however unorthodox they may be—are nonetheless effective."

"So?" Kryvokk grunted.

"So I want to give you a chance to work for something bigger than the Empire," Trila said. "I want you to work for the Republic."

"Huh? What did you say?" Kryvokk blinked, looking at her as if she had grown some odd limb out of her eye. "Did someone who works for the Empire just say I should work for the Republic?"

"I…must confess that I deceived you," Trila admitted, her accent disappearing.

"Oh, great, conspiracy crap," Kryvokk groaned. "Let me guess, your name isn't really Trila Karath, is it?"

"Actually, that part was true," Trila said. "But I work for the Republic. I took on an Imperial guise so that I could more easily recruit mercenaries to the Republic's cause."

"Thought the Republic didn't like using mercs?" Kryvokk said with a raised eyebrow.

"As a whole, they don't," Trila said. "I, however, believe that unorthodox tactics are necessary to fight a foe such as the Empire."

"And since I'm 'unorthodox', you want me to fight said Empire?" Kryvokk guessed.

"That's part of it," Trila said, taking Kryvokk's empty hand in both of hers. "Kryvokk, I want to heal you. You are clearly suffering, and I want to help you. If you work with the Republic, we can work together to end this miserable war."

One of her hands drifted up to Kryvokk's face.

"Please…will you accept?" Trila pleaded.

Kryvokk initially felt the need to refuse. After all, the Republic was supported by the Jedi, especially the one who killed his family. And then…he felt something odd. It was a strange feeling that was flowing through his body, calming and serene. He closed his eyes as his desires began to change. Perhaps working with the Republic wouldn't be so bad? After all, did every Jedi really have to die? Could he not make it work? Perhaps he could even train alongside the Padawans in the use of the Force, despite his age.

And then a realization hit him.

Kryvokk's eyes snapped open as he kneed Trila in the stomach, punching her in the jaw and throwing her into the nearest wall. A dazed Trila looked up to see Kryvokk's blaster pointing in her face.

"Your answer's 'no', Jedi," he spat.

"J-Jedi?" Trila stuttered. "W-what are you talking about?"

Kryvokk clubbed her upside the head with his blaster.

"Quit playing dumb," he growled. "You were using the Force to try and make me think the way you wanted me to."

His snarling face came close to hers.

"I would _never_ think about training to be a Jedi," he growled. "Not unless something was screwing with my mind."

"I…er…all right, you win," Trila sighed. "I am a Jedi, but not a Knight. I am only a Padawan. I wanted to use unorthodox tactics against the Empire because I saw that how useless the Republic's current tactics were. But Kryvokk, please, you must understand, I'm not like Ovan Zeeloss! He killed your parents, not me!"

"You really think I care?" Kryvokk snorted, kicking Trila again, this time to the side. He kicked her out into the room where Shum's corpse remained, pausing only to pick up Merzedak's discarded slave collar.

"Kryvokk…please, don't do this!" Trila begged, but Kryvokk only snapped the slave collar around her neck.

"What was that?" Kryvokk smirked, removing a small cylindrical device from Shum's body. "Couldn't hear you."

He activated the device, and electricity suddenly coursed through Trila's body. Convulsing madly as she screamed in pain, her body flopped across the floor, dropping a small vibroknife in the process.

"Oh, now, what do we have here?" Kryvokk grinned, picking up the vibroknife. "This ought to be fun."

"Kryvokk…please…why?" Trila panted.

"Because this is the best part of my job," Kryvokk grinned like a Nexu with a fresh kill, raising the vibroknife over his head. "Now, hold still so I can make this hurt like hell."

* * *

"Hey, kid," said a hologram of a balding man much later. "It's been a while. How's things with you?"

"Hey, Braden. They're not bad," Kryvokk shrugged, holding his holocommunicator in his hand as he leaned on a wall. "Just about to buy up some gear for the Great Hunt."

"You're gonna need it," Braden said. "The Great Hunt was just called. I need you on Nal Hutta as soon as possible."

"So, now's when I get to be a bigger name in hunting, right?" Kryvokk asked.

"That's if you actually win," Braden smirked. "Now, grab some gear and get on the nearest shuttle. We've got a hunt to win."

Kryvokk nodded with a smirk, deactivating his holocommunicator and leaving the scene of Rusain's cantina. Inside, the unconscious and battered—but still living—body of Trila Karath slowly reached for her own holocommunicator. Her body felt torment across every inch, and a large bloody gash was present where one of her eyes used to be.

The last of her strength faded from her, however, and she limply dropped her holocommunicator. Soon after, a group of black-garbed Imperial troopers entered.

"What in the—what happened here?" one trooper gasped.

"Something nasty, I'd wager," a second trooper replied. "Commander, what should we do about that woman?"

"Get her to a medical center," the commander ordered. "The Empire may have a use for her."


End file.
